“Poor old Bet,” smiled Polly. “Well, if she only makes good I won’t be half so unhappy at not playing myself.”
In less than five minutes she was sound asleep, and the next morning Miss King pronounced her temperature normal.
[CHAPTER XII—POLLY’S HEROISM]
“Miss King, don’t you think I might be carried to the game tonight?” pleaded Polly early Saturday morning as the nurse was bathing her face and hands.
“We’ll see; perhaps we can arrange it if you have no fever,” answered Miss King, and Polly had to be content.
After study hour Lois and Betty flew up to the infirmary.
“Everything’s going beautifully,” announced Lois excitedly, “and we brought you up the green and white ribbons; here, let me tie them on your arm.”
“How’s the ankle? Do you think you can get over to the game?” asked Betty eagerly.
“If I have no fever, Miss King says she’ll see. I hate people to say they will see; Aunt Hannah always did, and it always meant ‘no,’” pouted Polly. “When does the other team arrive?”
“The train’s due at 12:03, luncheon at 12:30, and the game’s called for 2 o’clock,” Lois told her.